Menagerie
by Lomax343
Summary: Furious with herself after a bad night at a tavern, Red Sonja wanders through country unknown to her. The gods decree that the next few days will not be uneventful. There's something nasty in the water, for a start; and when Sonja finds that she can take her revenge and repay a debt at the same time, there's no stopping her. But what is the terrible secret of the Howling Tower?
1. Red Sonja regrets her lack of restraint

**MENAGERIE **

**One – In which Red Sonja comes to regret her lack of restraint.**

If it hadn't been such a hot day, Red Sonja would've passed by Jharlen's village without ever realising it was there. If it hadn't been such a hot day she would never have heard of the Howling Tower, and the wizard Galud may well have been able to complete his researches, and unleash his creations on an unsuspecting world. If it hadn't been such a hot day – but on such small chances does the fate of the world often turn.

Red Sonja cursed the sun as it blazed down on her out of a cloudless sky. She was hot. She was also tired, footsore and thirsty, and her belly was as empty as her purse. And she was in a foul mood.

Two days earlier she'd been happy enough; purse and belly had both been full. The inn had been warm and welcoming, the ale good, and the company friendly. But the dice – the dice had not been kind.

Red Sonja, she-devil of the Hyrkanian steppes had never admitted defeat. She'd defied warriors and wizards, beasts and monsters, the very Gods themselves; and she refused to be vanquished by a run of bad luck at the gaming table. As her losses had mounted she'd grown reckless, staking ever higher. And when her purse had become empty she'd gone on to lose cloak, saddle and horse.

Then someone had offered to buy her sword for fifty pieces of silver so that she could continue playing; and at that moment the spell had been broken and her veins had turned to ice. She'd rounded on the man who'd made the offer and given him such a look that he'd recoiled several paces. The air was thick with the threat of violence. But she'd still had her pride – and just enough self-control. Without saying a word, she'd turned on her heel, left the tavern and started walking. She'd been walking ever since, stopping only to briefly to sleep when the need was overwhelming; always rising again after an hour or two to continue her march. She had no idea where she was going, and didn't care either. She just walked.

The country through which she was passing was arid scrubland, devoid of both water and any sign of human habitation. Her stomach growled. She was more than capable of finding food in the wild – even in such uncompromising country as this. But to do so she would have to pause in her march, and she hadn't yet travelled far enough. Hadn't punished herself enough for her own stupidity.

The land ahead of her was rising now, a little more steeply with each stride. The muscles in her thighs ached as she forced her way uphill, but she didn't slacken her pace in the slightest. Indeed, she focussed on the pain, revelling in it.

A couple of furlongs ahead of her the land crested out. She could see nothing beyond it, but suddenly that crest was her aim. She broke into a trot, then a run; then finally she was sprinting uphill. Sweat gushed from every pore, the pain in her thighs intensified and spread to her back and her feet; her breath came in gasps and her lungs burned. She kept going by sheer force of will. Towards the summit the ground was so steep it would've given a goat pause, but Sonja didn't slacken her pace in the slightest. Legs pumping, jaw firmly set, she leapt up the last few yards to the top, where she let out a primeval howl of triumph before collapsing on her back, chest heaving, heart pumping so loud she could hear the echoes in her skull.

She knew what she'd done. She'd set herself a task and won a victory. Just a very small victory – but enough to give her back a measure of self-respect and make her ready to be Red Sonja again.

For a long time she lay there as her heart-rate gradually slowed and her breathing became easier. Then she sat up and took stock. For some reason the country was greener up here; the grass lusher, and punctuated with small bushes and strange outcrops of bare rock. From where she sat the land sloped gently downhill and she could see a long way. Ahead and to her left a river snaked its way through a small wood. Ahead and to the right, she thought she could glimpse a road. A road meant habitation, people, the start of a new chapter in her life. She stood up and started towards it; but as she did so a drop of sweat fell from her sopping hair and made its way excruciatingly down her back to join the pool that was forming in her waistband. She took off one glove and wiped the sweat from her brow. She looked up at the sun, which was still burning mercilessly overhead. She looked at the road; then the river.

What the hell, she thought. Why not take the opportunity to cool off a bit first?


	2. Red Sonja gets her kit off

**MENAGERIE **

**Two – In which Red Sonja gets her kit off.**

The river was further off than it had first appeared, but the nearer Sonja got to it the more it seemed to call to her, glinting and glittering in the rays of the sun.

When she finally reached the trees the shade was welcome; and a gentle breeze blowing off the water cooled her still more. She ran the last few yards before throwing herself down on the bank and plunging her face into the water. It was surprisingly cold and she came up spluttering. Kneeling on the bank she cast aside her gauntlets and scooped up palmfuls of water which she drank greedily; then she splashed more over herself, shivering as little rivulets ran deliciously down her body. She pulled off her boots and sat dangling her feet in the water, waggling her toes. That was better, she thought to herself. She was no longer hot; she was no longer thirsty. Now all she needed was to find something to eat.

She gazed at the river. There was bound to be fish in it, but she couldn't see any. The water was opaque – not murky or silty; but silvery, as if sunlight bounced back off the surface and couldn't penetrate beneath. Twinkles of light danced on the ripples. It was serene; it was beautiful. It was enticing.

An idea began to form in Sonja's mind. She looked around. She knew that she was alone, but couldn't shake off the feeling that she was somehow trespassing in another's domain. She shrugged; since when had that ever bothered her? She stood up and undid her swordbelt, laying the weapon carefully down on the grass. She looked around again, some instinct gnawing at her; but there was nothing she could put her finger on. There was nothing to see but the water and the trees; there was nothing to hear but the rustling of the leaves and a few birds chirping.

Imagination, she told herself; nothing more. She reached up and removed the arrangement of leather and steel that covered – at least in part – her upper torso. Then her fingers went to the buckle at her hips. She hesitated a moment longer, then stepped out of her armour. Then, feeling like a mischievous twelve-year-old, she ran to the river, leapt high into the air, and entered the water with the biggest splash she could manage.

Mithra, but it was cold. As she broke surface she let out an involuntary shriek, and for a moment considered climbing out at once. After a second or two, however, she found the cold wonderfully refreshing – just the thing to soothe aching limbs. She swam a few lazy strokes towards the middle of the river, then dived beneath the surface. She kept her eyes open, but could see nothing underwater. Though the light did penetrate the water it was so broken and fragmented that no images could form. It was like swimming in liquid silver.

She swam back to a point where she could stand with the water up to her neck and began to wash her hair. Many times she ducked beneath the surface, dragging her fingers through her crimson tresses, until she was satisfied that she'd removed every trace of dust and grime and sweat. Then she swam a few more languid strokes before turning over and floating on her back, gazing up at the sky.

At last she struck out for the shore, noticing with surprise that she was some distance downstream from the place where she'd left her gear. Evidently the current was stronger than she'd thought. Once back in her depth, she began to wade back upstream.

Her leg brushed against something; some rock or submerged log she supposed; except that it was smooth against her skin. Then it happened again, only this time, unmistakeably, something brushed against _her_ – something moving below the surface. A fish perhaps? If so, it was a big one.

Beginning to feel just a little uneasy, she waded as fast as she could for the shallows. Her chest rose above the surface, then her stomach. Then the water around her suddenly erupted and she found herself fighting for her life.


	3. Red Sonja faces something far too long

**MENAGERIE **

**Three – In which Red Sonja is faced with something longer than she can cope with.**

It was a serpent – black and glistening – twelve, maybe fifteen feet long; and as thick as her waist. Already it had thrown a coil round her hips and its tail had her by the ankle. Its head reared high above her and she grabbed at it, desperately trying to stop it from wrapping itself round her neck. It hissed at her hideously, mouth agape, revealing two shiny white fangs fully six inches long. And that was wrong, she knew, because such fangs belonged in a venomous snake, whereas this specimen was clearly a constrictor.

But if the fangs were wrong, it was the eyes that filled her with horror. Even as she struggled, she stared at the eyes. Normal reptilian eyes were narrow and yellow; these were white, with bright blue irises – almost human eyes. And they were gazing at her intently, as if studying its prey. Merciful Goddess, here was a snake that could _think_.

Not that it needed to be overly cunning. It was immensely strong and weighed as much as a horse. Sonja toppled back in the water, rolling over and over as the coils wrapped themselves ever tighter around her. Had it attacked her in the deeper part of the river she would've been doomed for certain; but as she fought for her life in the shallows she found that every so often her head broke surface and she was able to snatch a hurried breath.

Nevertheless, she knew that she had very little time left. One massive coil was pressing her left arm against her chest, and her legs were pinioned. With her free arm she reached for her thigh and dragged her dagger out of its sheath.

Frantically, she stabbed at the mass of scales. "Even when I'm naked I'm still armed, you revolting worm," she screamed. Stab, stab, stab. The scales were tough, and though she was doing some damage it was not enough. She was rolled over again and held head downwards under the water. Still she struggled; still she stabbed. Then the snake seemed to adjust its hold somehow, and her right leg was suddenly free. She dug her heel into the bed of the river. Leverage.

Straining every muscle, she rolled both herself and the snake over again until her head was above the surface. She knew she'd never have the strength to do so again, which meant that she had to finish things now. The eyes – she had to stab for the eyes. She tried once, but her adversary seemed to anticipate her move and dodged its head out of the way. Then, still staring directly at her, it raised another coil of itself out of the water and struck Sonja on the wrist. The dagger was knocked from her hand and fell into the river with a splash.

There was a pause. The snake held Sonja motionless, gazing at her. Erlick and Mithra, she thought, it's _gloating_. It knows I'm finished; but it wants me to _know_ that it knows.

Possibly realising that it had made its point, the snake forced Sonja under the water. She took a deep breath, knowing that it would be her last. She continued to struggle, but it was like trying to lift a mountain with one hand. She felt dizzy; lights danced inside her skull.

A shudder went through the snake. Then a second; and a third – and suddenly she was free. She stood up, gasping for air, and caught a glimpse of the serpent swimming away from her, the feathered shafts of three arrows sticking out of it. Sonja turned. Standing on the bank was a man with a bow in his hand. Sonja looked down. The water was up to her navel. She crossed her hands over her chest.

"Turn around," she called.

"What?"

"I said, turn _around_!"


	4. Red Sonja gets her kit back on

**MENAGERIE**

**Four – In which Red Sonja gets her kit back on.**

The man shrugged and did as he was told. Behind him he heard splashing as Sonja waded out of the river. There was a long pause. He waited patiently.

Eventually: "You can turn back now."

The man did so and was astonished at what he saw. He'd already seen that Sonja was red-haired and beautiful, and had noticed the various pieces of armour that she'd left on the bank. What he hadn't expected, however, was to see her down on one knee before him, her head bowed. Her sword was in her hand, but she was holding it by the blade, as if offering him the hilt.

"My name is Red Sonja," she told him. "I owe you my life; and I have never yet failed to repay a debt." She paused before adding, "I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm – sensitive about certain things."

The man gave a short laugh. "For someone who's sensitive, you seem to wear very little."

Sonja's head jerked up and there was a flash of anger in her eyes. "What I choose to let men see," she told him in a cold voice, "is my own affair. What I choose _not_ to let them see is my own affair, also." Then in a quieter tone she continued, "I wear this armour because I choose to wear it. A strange choice, I allow: but I have reasons for it."

"Fair enough."

"But you haven't told me your name."

"I'm Jharlen. My village is a couple of miles upstream from here."

Sonja looked at Jharlen. He was a youngish man, full of vigour. He was clean-shaven, and his hair was jet black. He wore it long; tied in a pony-tail. He was humbly dressed – both his trousers and his jerkin showed signs of having been mended more than once. His bow was of simple yew, but well made; as was the quiver he wore at his waist. His muscular forearms showed him to be an experienced archer. For a second, Sonja wondered if he was as handy with any other sort of weapon.

"Then thank-you, Jharlen."

"You're welcome."

"What was that – thing?"

"I've not seen it before, but I fear it was one of Galud's creations."

"Galud?"

"A wizard. By the way, you don't have to kneel to me; I'm not a prince. And you can put that sword away as well. I've never used one, and don't want to either." Sonja was vaguely disappointed to hear this, but rose to her feet and sheathed her blade.

"Lucky for you I was out hunting this way," said Jharlen.

"Indeed. I think I'd like to meet this wizard, Galud."

"No, you wouldn't."

"You don't know me very well."

"Hardly surprising, since we've only just met. I'm not trying to order your comings and goings; but since Galud lives in the Howling Tower and that's two days from here on foot, then you may as well make other plans for the evening. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, actually."

"Then come to my house. I can offer you a hot meal and a bed for the night. In truth, I'd welcome the company.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said hastily as Sonja's eyes grew furious again. "I meant that it would be pleasant to have someone new to talk to."

"I'm sorry," Sonja said, lowering her head shamefacedly, "but there have been many men who think – well…"

"I'm sure there have been. But as far as that sort of thing is concerned, I've not touched a woman since my wife died, more than a year ago."

"So you live alone?"

"With my daughter. She should have the supper ready soon."

Presently they came to Jharlen's village. Sonja was shocked. It was clear that it had once been a prosperous place, even a happy one. But evil times had clearly befallen it. She could see it in the faces of those who silently watched her approach.

Jharlen led the way to one of the larger huts and pulled aside the leather curtain that served as a door.

"Clodia? I hope supper's ready?"

"Yes, Father," came a voice from within.

"Good. Lay another place – we have a guest."

Sonja stepped into the hut. It was simply furnished, but scrupulously clean and tidy. A girl of about fourteen emerged from what was presumably the kitchen.

"Greetings," she said, standing with her hands on her hips, staring at Sonja.

Sonja was used to being stared at, and returned the girl's gaze levelly.

"Sonja," Jharlen said, "this is my daughter, Clodia. Clodia, this is Red Sonja."

Clodia gave a slight nod, which Sonja returned.

"You know what you need?" Clodia asked.

"What?"

"A comb."


	5. Red Sonja meets her match, in a way

**MENAGERIE**

**Five – In which Red Sonja meets her match, in a manner of speaking**

"A what?"

"A comb. Your hair's a mess. Sit down here."

"Is your daughter always this bossy?" Sonja asked Jharlen.

"Well -"

"Quiet, Father. Go and stir the stew for a minute. Then set another place at the table. You know where everything is."

" – yes, I'm afraid so," Jharlen finished, heading for the kitchen. "I'd do as she says if I were you."

Clodia produced a comb and gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Amused, Sonja sat. Clodia set to.

"Gods – when did you last comb your hair?"

"A few days ago."

"More like weeks."

"Ow!"

"Serves you right for letting it get so full of tangles." Then Clodia's voice suddenly changed. She was no longer the self-confident woman of the house, but a timid little girl. "I used to comb my mother's hair." Her tone was soft and wistful. "I liked doing that."

"I bet your mother liked it, too."

"I think so. She'd comb my hair, then I'd comb hers. Her hair was black, though. Like a raven's wing. I've never seen anyone with hair this colour."

"I come from a land far from here," Sonja said. "Your mother's dead, I hear."

"Yes; last spring. Now I keep house for father."

"How did your mother die?"

"She was taken by one of Galud's creatures."

"Clodia," Jharlen said sternly as he came back into the room, "you don't know that."

"Oh, don't I?" Clodia snapped. "She went into the woods to gather berries and never came back. What else could've happened?"

"Many things; but this is not the time to talk of them; now it is time to eat."

"Just a moment. There – your hair's just about presentable now."

"They sat round the table. Clodia ladled a rich stew into three bowls whilst Jharlen poured out some ale. Murmuring her thanks, Sonja picked up a spoon.

"I do hope you're not going to keep those gloves on whilst you're eating," Clodia said.

Guiltily, Sonja removed them.

After the meal, Clodia cleared the table, then fetched some blankets. "You can have my room; I'll sleep in here."

"No," Jharlen began, "_I'll_ sleep in here."

"Be quiet, Father."

"If I'd spoken to my father like that," Sonja said, "he'd've taken his belt to me."

"Would it have stopped you?"

"No," Sonja laughed. "He beat me many times but it didn't change me."

"It wouldn't change me, either. Father knows this, which is why he only uses his belt to hold his trousers up."

Sonja laughed again. "Tell me," she asked, "I've travelled far and wide in the world, seen many customs. But one thing is the same almost everywhere, which is that the guest's wishes are paramount. Is that so here?"

"It is," Jharlen said.

"Then _I_ will sleep in here. I'm used to doing without a bed."

"I can tell that from the state of your hair."

"What would happen if I took _my_ belt to you?" Sonja asked, trying to keep a smile off her face, but failing.

"You wouldn't get breakfast."

"Fair enough."

"And since I'm the one who's going to have to _cook_ breakfast, I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, Red Sonja."

"Goodnight, Clodia."

"Goodnight, Father." She kissed him affectionately on the forehead and retired into her own room.

"I'm sorry about my daughter," Jharlen began.

"Don't be," Sonja told him. "I like her. Really I do."

"It's a charade, though. She acts the good housewife; keeps me in my place. But underneath it all she's just a girl, still. She misses her mother terribly. Sometimes I hear her crying in the night."

"I understand. I know what it's like to lose someone dear when you're young."

"You do?"

"Yes. My family was murdered when I was not much older than Clodia. I've been looking for a home ever since."

"I'm sorry – I didn't realise."

"Why should you? Anyway; tell me more about this wizard and his – what did you call it – Howling Tower."


	6. Red Sonja learns much

**MENAGERIE **

**Six – In which Red Sonja learns much**

"Well, his name is Galud, and he arrived in this area about three years ago, though where he came from originally, I've no idea. I only ever saw him the once. He looked harmless. Crazy, but harmless. Said he was looking for somewhere quiet and out-of-the-way to conduct his researches."

"So he built himself this tower?"

"Oh no; that has been there for hundreds of years. Ruined and empty for as long as anyone can remember. I went exploring there once as a kid. Anyway, this Galud asked very politely if he could install himself there; and since no-one seemed to know who actually owned the place, there were no objections.

"So; he shut himself away – made a few repairs by all accounts – and no-one gave him a thought for a year or two. Then the howling started."

"Howling?"

"Yes. Some men from this village were out on a hunting expedition and found themselves near the place. They decided to have a look out of curiosity; find out what the mad old fool was up to, if anything. Then they heard it. Howling, they called it; but not like a wolf or anything else that exists outside of nightmares. Fair froze the blood, they said; and they turned and ran. One of them – Gaflin – swore he saw something as well. Never said what it was but it frightened the life out of him, and he wasn't the sort to start at shadows. He died a week later. His heart gave out, or so it was said. Others think different." Jharlen paused.

"Including you?" Sonja prompted.

Jharlen nodded grimly. "If ever a man was frightened to death, Gaflin was. Anyway, after that people stayed well clear of the Howling Tower, as we began to call it – if it had a name in the past it's long been forgotten. But a few months later the disappearances started."

"People vanished?"

"Yes. Seven or eight from this village; others from Laiden – that's a village three day's walk on the other side of the tower. There were rumours, of course. Something – or some things – was stalking the woods. Monstrous abominations. You know what the imagination can do."

"That serpent wasn't something imaginary. And it wasn't natural, either. I could've sworn it had human eyes."

Jharlen was silent for a long while. Then Sonja said gently; "that doesn't come as a surprise to you."

"No."

"Why not? Have you seen something like it before?"

"Not exactly; but I have seen _something._ Two months ago, or thereabouts. I saw something a few miles from here."

"What?"

"A monster. Like a huge wolf – the biggest you've ever seen. Only instead of front legs it had arms. Human arms. It had killed a deer and was holding one of the bones in its hands as it tore the flesh off it. I didn't stay to see any more. But it's my belief that Galud is somehow combining humans with beasts. To what end, I dare not guess."

"And you've never told anyone what you saw?"

"No. How do you know that?"

"I can read it in your face. Why did you keep it to yourself?"

"Look at this village. It's full of frightened people. Why scare them further?"

"Don't they have a right to know?"

"What would they do?"

"Leave?"

"And go where? This is our land, our home. If we leave, we are nothing."

"Fight, then."

"Aye, fight. I've thought about it; but how do you fight magic? How do you fight monsters?"

"You did quite well with your bow today."

"I merely persuaded that – thing – to seek its supper elsewhere."

"Nevertheless you proved that they can be hurt; can be fought."

"By who?"

"Me."

Jharlen shook his head. "I knew you were going to say that. But this is not your fight."

"I'll decide what is my fight and what isn't. I said I owed you a debt, and that I would repay it. Now I know how."

"But -"

"But nothing. Now, if you will allow it, I'm going to get some sleep. I'll set out in the morning."

"Yes, I know you will. You're as stubborn as Clodia."

Sonja said nothing, but removed her boots, wrapped herself in a blanket and lay down on the floor. After a while, Jharlen got up and went to his own room.


	7. Red Sonja is strangely touched

**MENAGERIE**

**Seven – Red Sonja is strangely touched**

"Wake up, sleepy-head!"

"Hnnnh?" Sonja sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"It's a good job you're a guest," Clodia told her, "or I'd've had you up doing chores an hour ago."

"I can believe it." She sniffed. Tantalising smells were coming from the kitchen.

"Out the back," Clodia pointed.

"What?"

"The wash-pump and the privy. You've got five minutes."

"I pity the man you end up marrying," Sonja said as she headed in the direction indicated.

Breakfast was served four minutes later. The food was plain but wholesome – and plentiful. Clodia pressed second helpings on Sonja.

"You've got a long journey ahead of you – this could be your last decent meal for a while."

"What makes you say that?" Sonja asked.

"Don't think I didn't hear what you and Father were talking about last night."

"So you listen at doorways, do you?"

"In my own house, yes."

"I thought it was my house," Jharlen said.

"Men don't know anything."

"Maybe not. But I'll have a second helping too, please."

There was a pause as the implication of this remark sank in. Sonja was the first to react.

"I travel alone."

"Do I tell you where you can or cannot go? Besides; this is _my_ village. I have the right."

Sonja conceded the point. "Very well, but just you. We're going to have to employ stealth, and you can't do that if there's a whole bunch of you."

"Father -" Clodia was the vulnerable girl again, "I – I don't want to lose you as well as mother.." There were tears in her eyes, though she fought to hold them back.

"And I don't want to lose you. But the whole village will be lost unless Galud is stopped."

"But what can just the two of you do against – against - "

"We can _try_. I owe your mother that much; I can see that now."

Clodia hugged her father. "Come back safe."

"I will, I promise." Jharlen buckled his quiver of arrows round his waist and picked up his bow. He hesitated a moment, then picked up an axe from beside the door-frame. Sonja looked at it. "That's no battle-weapon. That's for splitting logs."

"Is there any reason why it can't also split skulls at need?"

"I suppose not. Come on, lets go."

They set off together into the bright morning.

"Sonja!" Clodia was running after them. "Please take this." She held out something. Sonja looked and saw that it was a comb.

"It was my mother's," Clodia said. "I'd like you to have it." Sonja was speechless. She'd been given a great many gifts over the years, but it was a long time since one had touched her so deeply. She took it, and kissed Clodia on the forehead. "Thank-you. I promise to put it to good use."

Jharlen and Sonja walked for most of the day, saying little. As evening approached they made a fire and camped for the night. Jharlen had brought some bread and cold meat. After they'd eaten, Sonja sat combing her hair.

"What was you wife's name?" she asked suddenly.

"Clodia."

"Huh?"

"It is the custom here. The eldest daughter is named after the mother; the eldest son after the father."

"And is there no little Jharlen?"

"No; that was our punishment."

"Punishment?"

Jharlen hesitated before answering. "How old do you think I am?"

"Thirty?"

"Twenty-nine. And Clodia's fourteen. Which means?"

"That you had an early start."

"You could put it like that. We were just children. It was the harvest-feast. We wandered off round the back of the haystack. We didn't know anything – it just happened."

"I see."

"Little Clodia was conceived that evening. We didn't realise until some months later. The elders were furious; but we stuck together and eventually it was agreed that we would marry. But we displeased the Gods also. So – no little Jharlen, nor anyone else. Clodia's all I have in the world. She deserves a peaceful and happy life. Which is why I'm coming with you."

"Jharlen -"

"Whatever you're going to say, forget it. Now go to sleep."

Within five minutes Jharlen was snoring gently; but Sonja sat silent and watchful long into the night, reflectively turning a comb over and over in her hands.


	8. Red Sonja doesn't have a plan

**MENAGERIE **

**Eight – In which Red Sonja doesn't have a plan**

"Wake up, sleepy – aargh!"

Two heartbeats after nudging Sonja's sleeping form with his boot, Jharlen was flat on his back with the red-haired she-devil kneeling astride his chest, holding a dagger to his throat. She raised her eyebrows.

"Er, good morning?" Jharlen ventured.

Sonja let him up. "How much further to this tower?"

"We should be there this afternoon."

"Tell me about it."

"What do you mean?"

"How big, how many entrances, any defences like walls or ditches. Useful things to know in advance."

"I see. Well, like I said it was a ruin last time I was there, and Galud must've made some changes, if only to make it habitable. But it's circular, maybe sixty paces round. Short and squat, not particularly high, but with a flat roof where you could stand and watch the surrounding country – though the woods should provide us with some cover. It's right on the river. Two entrances that I remember. One on the landward side; no door when I was there, but that will have changed for sure. The other entrance is the water-gate. You can row a small boat directly inside. No ditches that I recall."

They walked on in silence for some time. Around noon they stopped to rest and eat. They didn't make a fire.

"Do you have a plan?" Jharlen asked suddenly.

"No."

"No?"

"No. A few ideas, though. The first is to approach unseen. I suggest we stay here for a bit and approach at night. The second is not to knock at the main door but to have a good look at things before deciding on anything rash. The third is to keep my wits about me and my blade ready."

"Right. Whatever we decide to do, though, I'd rather do it in daylight."

"Afraid of the dark?"

"I'm afraid of the tower, day or night; but I'm not going to let that hold me back. No; my point is that I'm a good archer, as you know; but I need to be able to see what I'm aiming at."

"I'll bear it in mind."

A pause, then Jharlen said, "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Are you afraid?"

"Of course. I always am."

"Always?"

"Always. I've lost count of the number of battles I've fought. Against men, monsters – whole armies sometimes. And always I'm afraid. Only the stupid never feel fear. But I've learnt to _use_ the fear; to channel it, make me stronger. It's complicated."

"It sounds as if you almost enjoy battle."

Sonja didn't answer for a long time. Then; "You ask too many questions; and we don't have time for my life-story. Anyway, I think we've waited long enough. Lets get moving."

They marched on; more cautiously now, glancing to left and right as they went. The thought was unspoken, but each knew that the nearer they got to the tower, the greater would be the chances of encountering something nasty.

But the Gods smiled on them; and just as dusk was falling they came to a place where the trees had been cleared away.

"There you are," whispered Jharlen, "the Howling Tower."


	9. Sonja, animal noises and a rear entrance

**MENAGERIE **

**Nine – In which there are animal noises and a rear entrance**

It was pretty much as Jharlen had described it. Certainly, it was ancient, and its walls were covered with creepers and climbing plants. On the other hand, it was no ruin. The landward doorway was visible from where they stood; and was solid-looking and firmly shut.

"Well," Sonja said, "it's a lot less formidable than some places I've had to deal with. No sign of guards or watchmen; no-one patrolling the roof or anything."

"No sign of any human guards, you mean."

"Do _try_ to be a little positive. Right – there are three ways in."

"Three?"

"Three. That door is probably barred, and though you could hack your way in with that axe eventually, I don't suggest you try that."

"Which just leaves the water-gate."

"Or climbing."

"What?"

"Climbing. See there – about two-thirds of the way up – a window. Doesn't seem to be shuttered or barred; and with all those creepers it should be possible to climb up to it."

"So we climb?"

"Not we; one of us. The other tries the water-gate. Which do you prefer?"

"I don't fancy the river."

"Fine;" Sonja said. "You climb."

"No; I mean after that encounter with the serpent, I don't think either of us should risk the river."

"You shot it, remember? It's probably licking its wounds, or whatever snakes do."

"There might be two of them."

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Just a hunch. A snake with human eyes, a wolf with human arms. Our friend has a variety of ideas – I'll wager he never makes two of anything."

"So you're trusting your life to a hunch?"

"I've done it many times before, and I'm still breathing. Shall we go?"

"Now? I told you; I need light to shoot straight."

"So you did. But in the first place you can't climb and use a bow at the same time; in the second place even wizards sleep from time to time; and in the third place you'll note from that window that there's a light burning within. Any more questions?"

"Yes; what do I do when I get inside?"

"Walk softly, keep your wits about you, and try to find out as much as you can. Oh, and if you hear someone coming up the stairs don't shoot until you're sure it's not me."

"Not much of a plan."

"You can still turn back."

"Not now I can't." Keeping low, he began to trot across the open ground between him and the tower.

Then the howling started.

No creature on earth could've made that sound. It awoke in those who heard it a deep-rooted race memory of the time when monsters walked the earth. It chilled the blood; froze the marrow. Jharlen threw himself on the ground and covered his ears.

"It's seen us."

"No it hasn't. I know it's hard, but listen to it. That's not a challenge; that's a creature in distress – in pain."

"Gods - what _manner_ of creature?"

"Lets find out, shall we?" Leaving Jharlen to make his own way, Sonja circled the tower until she came to the river. She hesitated a moment, then slipped quietly into the water and began to wade towards the archway in the stonework. The water came up to her shoulders, but she found that she was in her depth the whole way. As she passed under the arch she drew her sword, but the place seemed deserted. There was a jetty for mooring boats, though none was present. There was, however, a convenient flight of steps, and she climbed dripping out of the water. It was gloomy, but she could make out a door at the end of the jetty. It proved to be unlocked; but stiff, as if it hadn't been used in years. It led to a narrow spiral staircase which she began cautiously to climb. After ascending two levels, as she judged, she came to a small landing, off which three doors opened. Light was showing under one of them.

She took a deep breath and a firm grip on her sword; then gave the door a firm kick. It flew open and she found herself in a large high-ceilinged room, bare except for a few pieces of crude furniture. In addition, however, it contained a creature straight out of a nightmare.


	10. Red Sonja faces a mixed-up opponent

**MENAGERIE **

**Ten – In which Red Sonja fights a rather mixed-up opponent**

It was a bear; or at least, mostly a bear. It had a bear's body and limbs, and thick black fur; and had it raised itself up on its hind legs it would've been eight feet tall. The nightmarish part, however, was the head. It was that of a monstrous crocodile, jaws slightly agape, revealing dozens of sharp yellow teeth. The creature made a strange sort of gurgling sound and advanced on its visitor.

Sonja turned to face it. She was horrified, but not unduly alarmed. The world contained many powerful and dangerous creatures, but few of them had an answer to three feet of tempered steel.

The creature paused in front of her and issued its gurgling challenge again. Then it did rear up to its full height in an instinctive show of strength. In so doing, it exposed its abdomen to Sonja, who took a step forward and lunged –

- and then realised that things were not going to be as straightforward as she had at first supposed. At the last moment the creature had twisted its huge body aside; and instead of burying her sword to the hilt in its vitals, she had only managed to graze its flesh. She'd drawn blood; but it was no more than a deep scratch.

The creature gave a sort of choked gulp and looked at Sonja; looked her in the eye. With a shock she realised that its eyes were like those of the serpent. Not reptilian, but human; staring at her, evaluating her. Merciful Gods, this creature was not only four times her size and five times as strong, it was also capable of rational thought.

Even so, she still had her sword, which she held firmly in front of her. Come on, she thought; your move. But the creature made no attempt to attack the she-devil. Rather, it backed away slowly.

"What's the matter?" Sonja asked it. "Don't you like the taste of steel?"

Whether the creature understood her or not she never knew; but it suddenly turned and seized a rough wooden table. Its paws were awkward for the task, but when it turned back it had equipped itself with a crude shield.

Now it was Sonja's turn to back away, noting as she did so that (whether by chance or design) the creature was backing her up against a wall with neither doors nor windows.

If in doubt, attack. She took two quick paces forward then leapt high into the air and thrust vigorously. She'd hoped to surprise the creature by striking over the top of its defences; but the creature wasn't so easily fooled. It raised the table, and Sonja's sword struck wood instead of flesh, biting deep.

The creature hurled the table aside. Still embedded in it, Sonja's blade was wrenched out of her hand. She reached for her dagger; then realised with horror that it was still at the bottom of the river where it had been knocked out of her hand by the first of Galud's pets. She wasted half a second cursing herself for such stupidity; and the creature cuffed her back-handed with one of its paws.

The force of the blow lifted her off her feet and sent her sprawling on the floor. Nevertheless, she got the impression that the creature had struck her with less than its full strength. No time to wonder about that. There was a stool by her and she picked it up and threw it at the creature's head – not with any realistic hope of hurting it, but simply to distract it as she dived for her sword.

She never made it. Moving with surprising speed, the creature dropped to all fours and intercepted her as she reached for her blade. She beat at it desperately with her gloved fists, but she might as well have been punching rock. The huge jaws closed around her midriff. She commended her soul to the Gods. She could feel the strength in the creature's jaws; knew they could snap her spine like a twig.

The jaws didn't close. They held her firmly enough so that she kicked and struggled in vain; and here and there she felt that the tip of a tooth had punctured her skin. But she still lived. Erlick's beard, the creature wanted her alive.

Holding its squirming prize in its jaws, the creature made for a corner of the room where a stairway led upwards. The room on the next floor was as cluttered as the one below had been bare. Shelves and tables overflowed with books and rolls of parchment. Scores of candles dribbled and flickered. There were rows and rows of glass jars filled with horrible things the nature of which she dared not guess at.

And in the midst of it all stood a man. He was of slightly less than average height, and could've been aged anywhere from thirty to seventy. He was bald, dressed in a shapeless brown robe, and busy heating something in a small cauldron. He looked up as Sonja was brought in.

"My goodness," he said, approaching her, "what an absolutely splendid specimen."


	11. Sonja discusses the state of her liver

**MENAGERIE **

Eleven – In which the state of Red Sonja's liver is discussed

"Specimen, am I?" Sonja roared at him. "Make this abomination let go of me!"

If he heard her, the man paid no attention. He bent over her, muttering to himself. "Red hair; hmm, unusual. Excellent eyes, though; clear and bright. Suggestive of a mind to match."

"Never mind the colour of my hair," Sonja screamed at him, "just think about the colour of your blood on the floor when I've finished with you."

Again, the man appeared not to have heard her, but kept up his muttering. Behind him, the cauldron bubbled and spat unheeded.

"Good limbs, too. Several possibilities there. I suppose your liver's in good order?"

This last question was addressed directly to Sonja, who was so taken aback that she was struck dumb for a second. The man was right about one thing; her mind was clear and sharp, and it was telling her that it was important to keep the man's attention, and to hope that Jharlen had met with better fortune than she had. 

"My liver?" she said at last. "Well, it's served me well enough over the years, despite the amount of drink I've poured down my throat."

"Hmm – I'll examine it later."

Hopefully without removing it first, Sonja thought to herself. Then, because she could think of no other way to keep the conversation going said, "You must be Galud?"

"Yes, I'm Galud. How did you know?"

"Your fame is greater than you suppose."

"Is it?" There'd been a note of sarcasm in Sonja's voice, but Galud seemed not to have noticed. "But my work is hardly begun."

"Talking of which, what _is_ this thing?" Sonja was uncomfortably aware that the creature in whose jaws she was being held was standing absolutely still, its eyes fixed on Galud as if awaiting instructions.

"That? Oh, that's number seventeen."

"Number seventeen?"

"Yes," Galud replied apologetically. "I suppose I ought to have given them all names, but I was never very good at that sort of thing. But anyway, I keep full records of them over here." He moved to a table piled untidily with scrolls and unrolled one of them. "Oh, and please stop struggling, by the way. Seventeen won't damage you unless I tell it to; you're far too valuable." He squinted at the scroll. "Yes – I think I could use parts of you for numbers twenty-three and twenty-four. Your liver, by the way, is needed by number eleven. He ails, poor thing."

Sonja didn't know what reply to make to this. Indeed, she was trying very hard not to think of the implications at all. Her eyes flashed round the room. More to change the subject than to be helpful, she said, "Your soup's boiling over, by the way."

"What? Oh, bother." Galud snatched the cauldron off the flame and stirred the contents with a vexed expression on his face. "Bother," he said again, "the serum's ruined. Oh well, I can make another batch later." He suddenly seemed unsure of himself. "Er, is it day or night?"

"Night." Stupid to think that wizards kept normal hours.

Galud crossed to a shuttered window, opened it, and peered out for a moment. "So it is." He closed the shutter again. "One loses track of time so easily. It hardly seems a moment since I had breakfast." Sonja wasn't listening; where in Hades had Jharlen got to?

"Yes, I'm sure I had breakfast this morning. Or perhaps it was yesterday. Still," he said, brightening up, "at least I feed my pets regularly. Or I'm pretty sure I do. Shall we go up to the menagerie?"

He turned and opened a door that led to another set of stairs. Seventeen, still holding Sonja in its jaws, crossed the room to follow. As it did so, it passed close by a table and Sonja was able to reach out and grab some sort of glass vessel. A piece of broken glass can be useful in a crisis.

Galud stopped, partway up the stairs. "Please put that down," he said, without turning round. His voice was quite calm. Sonja didn't respond.

"I said out that down," Galud repeated, rather more firmly. "No," he said in answer to Sonja's unasked question, "I don't have eyes in the back of my head; but seventeen has eyes in the front of his. So put that down, or I'll ask him to close his jaws. They're quite powerful."

"Won't that spoil my liver?"

"Regrettably, yes; but other parts of you will still be useable."

Sonja opened her hand and let the vessel fall. There was a tinkle of smashed glass. Galud sighed; "I said put, not drop. Never mind; come along."

He continued up the stairs until they reached another chamber, filled with iron cages. Sonja looked around, fighting the urge to vomit.


	12. Red Sonja gets the guided tour

**MENAGERIE**

**Twelve – In which Red Sonja gets the guided tour**

Each cage contained a monstrosity. There was a cat with a monkey's prehensile tail, hanging from the topmost bar of its cage; there was some sort of enormous lizard with the tail and sting of a scorpion; there was a large flightless bird with the head of an antelope; there was the wolf with human arms that Jharlen had described seeing earlier.

They were all staring at her intently; and they all had human eyes.

Galud opened a large chest from which a ghastly smell arose. He fished out several hunks of dripping flesh which he distributed to his creations. They attacked the meat hungrily and noisily.

"Nothing is wasted, you note," Galud remarked. "Those parts which I cannot use directly serve as sustenance."

Sonja pondered the meaning of this remark. "You mean some of that meat was – human?"

"Indeed. I assure you that no part of you will be discarded. He opened the door of an empty cage and beckoned to seventeen. In here."

Sonja was carried inside and dropped on the floor. She knew she ought to have seized the opportunity to leap into action, but the pain of being held so long between two sets of teeth wouldn't allow her to do so. The creature withdrew and Galud closed the door and turned a large key. Seventeen then entered its own cage and was fed in its turn.

"Why are you doing this?" Sonja asked.

"I wish to create perfection," Galud said.

"What? You call these monstrosities perfection?"

"Not at all. They are merely the first steps along the road. I have far to go yet. But nature is haphazard, would you not agree? It gives rise to creatures with one or two fine characteristics, but with equally reprehensible defects. The antelope has speed and grace, but lacks strength. The crocodile possesses strength, but not dexterity. And all creatures lack intellect. All save one."

Intelligence, thought Sonja. "Those eyes -"

"Indeed. Each of my creations, well, each since my earliest assays, has a human brain; far superior to that of any beast. But for some reason which I have not yet discovered, a human brain requires human eyes. I tried once to link a human brain to the eyes of an eagle, but it was not a success."

Something else occurred to Sonja. "And you communicate with these creatures?"

"Up to a point. They're not great conversationalists – but I can read their simpler thoughts. See through their eyes, if I concentrate; which is how I knew that you'd snatched up that alembic. And, of course, they do my bidding."

"It sounds as if you're trying to turn yourself into some sort of God."

"What is a God, but a creator of life? What am I but a creator of life?"

"A perverter of life, more like."

"You may think so; but as I said, my work is far from complete. I seek to perfect that which other creators began; and I have, I admit, had my failures."

"What failures?"

"You wish to hear more about my work?"

"I've nothing better to do right now." More to the point, Sonja thought, I need to stall for time. Where in Hades is Jharlen? This must be the floor with the open window; yes, there it is. So where _is_ he?

Distracted by this thought she missed part of Galud's rambling dissertation. "…but of course, many of my earlier creations died. It was only to be expected. Then I found that my control over some was incomplete, especially at a distance."

"You let these things loose in the forest?"

"As an experiment, yes. Regrettably, one failed to return. It will have to be destroyed."

"Let me guess – a serpent?"

"Yes; how did you know? Ah, I see you must have encountered it. I hope you did it no harm?"

"Well, I killed it." Sonja disliked lying, even to maniacs like Galud; but she sensed that the idea would aggravate him.

She was correct. His eyes blazed with a sudden fury. "You did what? By what right do you murder one of my creations?"

"You said yourself that it would have to be destroyed."

"I did. But I was its _creator_. Only _I_ have the right to destroy it." As suddenly as it had flared up, his temper vanished and his voice became detached again. "I think there must've been some contamination in the serum."

"Serum?"

"Indeed. You see, the biggest practical difficulty I faced was one of scale. Certain parts of some

animals are too small to be usefully grafted onto others. My solution to this was serum, whereby I increase the size of various components. Take number ten, here." He gestured towards the lizard-scorpion, "a monitor lizard; but the tail which I attached to it had to be increased in size many times before it was of any practical use. The effect on its venom, incidentally, was most interesting, as you may discover later.

"But the serum. The serpent – number thirteen – was my first attempt at growing an entire specimen. It failed, at least in part; but I learn from my failures. I refined the serum and have perfected it – as you can see from number twenty."

He gestured to a cage in the far corner of the room. It was furthest from the light and it was hard for her to discern what sort of creature – or combination of creatures – lay within. She stared. It was black, it was huge it was –

In spite of herself, Sonja screamed.


	13. Something unpleasant is about to happen

**MENAGERIE**

Thirteen – In which Red Sonja gets the idea that something distinctly unpleasant is about to happen to her

It was a spider: monstrous, black and hairy; and at least eight feet across. Its head was that of a dog – presumably with a human brain and eyes; and its front legs had been replaced with human arms.

It wasn't the creature's hideous appearance which so affected Sonja, however. There was something else in the cage with the spider-thing, round which it was dextrously wrapping sticky strands of silvery-grey web. It was Jharlen.

He was laying face-down and immobile; presumably unconscious rather than dead as Galud almost certainly had plans for him – or parts of him. Still, it was disconcerting for Sonja to find that her greatest hope of deliverance was in an even worse situation that she was.

Suddenly, Sonja's screams were answered; answered by the unearthly howling she'd heard before – only this time it was so close and horrible that Sonja clapped her hands over her ears.

"Oh dear," said Galud, "you've started him off again." He picked up a stick and started to beat at something which, from Sonja's point of view, was hidden behind a wooden cabinet. At length the howls ceased.

"What was that thing?" Sonja asked, dreading the answer.

"This? Number four. Here let me show you." He grabbed at something and hauled it out where Sonja could see it plainly. It was human, or had been. A boy; about ten years old and stark naked. His head, however, had been removed and replaced with that of a monkey.

"An early exercise in surgical techniques," Galud said. "It still has the mind of a primate – no intelligence at all. But the two sets of vocal cords have become fused together, resulting in that rather peculiar sound that so shocked you, seemingly. I keep it out of interest – it's the earliest of my creations still living. I had hoped to train it to perform some small domestic chores, but it's quite useless."

Sonja stared at the wizard, and as she did so something hardened within her. She was no longer afraid, nor was she liable to shock and revulsion. These were driven out of her by a deep and overpowering loathing of Galud; together with the absolute certainty that he would suffer at her hands.

"You know what?" she asked him. "I've travelled a lot in my time; and have met a fair few madmen; but you take the prize, you really do. I know that there's a fine line between madness and true evil – but you exist on both sides of that line. You're lower than the worst sort of vermin – and I'm the one that's going to make you pay."

Galud was unperturbed. "You merely fail to appreciate the beauty of my work; you cannot see the vision that I have. You have not the wit to see it. But you will play your part, I promise you. Oh, I see that you glance towards the fellow being attended to by number twenty; I assume he was a friend of yours? Well fear not; I shall be merciful and ensure that you are never separated again on this earth. I shall bond you together by attaching his eyes to your brain and vice versa. Am I not beneficent?"

Sonja cursed Galud in the foulest language she knew; which, given the paths she'd walked, took some time.

"I tire of you, I'm afraid," Galud said when she'd finally finished. "Ah well, to work." He closed his eyes for a moment as if in concentration; and a few moments later there was the sound of something descending form an upper level. A door opened.

"Number nineteen," Galud announced, "and to date my favourite."

Part of the creature – body and tail – was crocodile. Sonja wondered if it was the same crocodile whose head was joined to the body of the bear. It walked upright, having the arms and legs of a gorilla. Its head was that of a human woman, raven haired, who might once have been considered beautiful, though her features were now twisted and distorted.

It shuffled over to Galud and looked him in the eye for a moment or two before he handed it a key. It approached Sonja's cage. Its hands were not dextrous, but eventually it unlocked the door and stepped inside.

In no mood to submit quietly, Sonja leapt up and kicked the beast – well, somewhere. It was hard to tell what might be a vital spot. The beast recoiled half a step; then fetched Sonja a mighty blow that sent her sprawling on the floor. As the beast bent over her to seize her, realisation dawned.

"Clodia!"


	14. Sonja's best friend is not her sword

**MENAGERIE**

**Fourteen - In which Red Sonja discovers that a girl's best friend is not always her sword **

The creature hesitated for a fraction of a second before roughly seizing Sonja between its paws; and this told Sonja that her guess had been correct. The creature that held her – or at least, the mind within it – was Jharlen's wife.

"Clodia," Sonja shouted, "listen to me. Galud is evil; he's using you for his own foul ends."

"You're wasting your time," Galud remarked. "I told you; I don't give my creatures names. And whatever name the human part bore in a previous life, the creature is mine now."

"Clodia," Sonja persisted. "Look, there's Jharlen over there. Remember? Jharlen. He came to save you." There was a flicker in the creature's eyes. Just a flicker; not enough to stir the memories.

"Enough," Galud snapped. "You will kill this woman now. Cleanly; the way I taught you."

This way proved to be to back Sonja against the wall, grip her head with both paws, and twist. Sonja fought against it, but the creature was hideously strong.

"Clodia," Sonja gasped; but the creature's only response was to twist still harder. Any second, Sonja knew, her neck would shatter and she'd be nothing more than a pile of ingredients for Galud's next recipe.

Then a flash of inspiration. "Clodia;" she could barely speak, but forced the words out, "Clodia, your hair's a mess. When did you last comb it?"

Another flicker in the creature's eyes – Clodia's eyes – and a slight slackening in the pressure on Sonja's neck.

"What if your daughter could see you now? What would she say about all those tangles?" Clodia's face looked troubled; as if she was straining after some elusive memory. She relaxed her grip a fraction more.

"Remember! Remember when your daughter – little Clodia – used to comb your hair each night. Beautiful hair, she said you had. Like a raven's wing. And she was right; I can see that."

Come on, Clodia; you've got to be in there somewhere. Sonja fumbled in her pouch and held something up before Clodia's eyes. "Look; your comb. Your favourite comb. The one your daughter used to use."

A long pause. Then the Clodia-creature released her hold on Sonja, who collapsed on the floor, gasping. Even so, she had the presence of mind to hold up the comb. A leathery paw took it gently from her and held it up for Clodia's eyes to stare at.

"Obey me," Galud shouted. "Obey me! Kill this woman!"

The gorilla's muscular arm struck just once. It caught Galud under the jaw and propelled him across the room. When he landed, he twitched once then lay still, his neck broken.

Every eye in the room was now focussed on Sonja again, but in a different way. There was still intelligence in them; but there was something else as well. A plea; a heartfelt, wordless plea. Sonja knew what she had to do. She fetched her sword from the room two floors below, and approached each cage in turn. Not a creature flinched. Not one pair of eyes failed to show a spark of gratitude at the last. Even the boy-monkey.

Sonja left Clodia until last. She glanced at the still-unconscious Jharlen, then back to his wife. Clodia understood. Her throat worked as she formed a few words with difficulty.

"Never…tell…him."

Sonja nodded, and thrust.


	15. After which the author goes down the pub

**MENAGERIE**

**Fifteen – After which the author hits Save and goes down the pub**

Two hours later, Jharlen awoke with a groan and a sore head. He was sitting propped against a tree, fifty yards from the tower. Smoke was pouring out of it; everything inside was ablaze.

"What happened?" he asked. "I don't remember anything after climbing through that window."

"Something hit you over the head, I think."

"Galud?"

"Dead."

"You killed him?"

"Yes." That lie came easily. "And started the fire. It was for the best."

Jharlen looked at Sonja. She could see that there were many questions he wanted to ask, but thankfully he had the wit to realise he was better off not asking them. Save one.

"And Clodia?"

"She is at peace," said Red Sonja, combing her hair.


End file.
